Slightly Possessive
by St.Alya
Summary: Dwalin is a simple dwarf. A warrior loyal to his king and kin. Romantic feelings are things that he has trouble dealing with, and he had never expected they would come in the form of the precious gem that was Ori, with his rare artistic talents.


**This is me not being able to resist a sequel to Mutually Possessive, showing Dwalin and Ori xD I took this opportunity to say how Fili and Kili were cruel by setting Ori's gifts on fire on that previous fics, and to redeem myself with our favorite shy dwarf :)**

**Not sure if they are in character, but please, enjoy!**

**xxxxxxx**

Slightly Possessive

You see, Dwalin was a simple dwarf. He took great pride in the fact that he was a true warrior, and like most true warriors, his morality was really simple, just like himself.

Be loyal to your king. Be loyal to your family. Protect the weak whenever you can. Don't steal. Don't kill unless it is necessary. Don't take advantage of people unless it's your enemy. Don't be afraid of death. Don't waste good ale.

These were the principles that ruled his life, and a few times aside when there were some he could not protect, he could say without guilt that he had done good by those principles.

Watching over Fili and Kili had fallen easily into his duties. Dwalin had seen them grow and had taught them as much as Thorin and Balin had. He loved those lads as if they were his own sister-sons, as Dis was truly a sister to him. They could be annoying and overly-laughing sometimes, but youth was a good excuse for that and despite his efforts he ended up smirking at their pranks and jokes more often than not. Therefore, it was somewhat surprisingly that he found himself getting angry with them. Not annoyed-angry. _Jealous_-angry. Not to mention the feeling-stupid-about-himself-angry, but to be fair that was not the lads' fault. Most definitely not the lads', but _another_ lad's.

How old was Ori, anyway? He might as well be Kili's age, barely an adult. Dwalin might have held him in his arms as a baby… But he hadn't.

He had met the shy scribe one month before going on that quest, and suddenly his ethics were in war against himself, because courting Ori certainly fell to the category of taking advantage of someone who was not your enemy. Ori was so much younger than him, and too naive - more naive than Fili and Kili, who granted were no adults, but had seen some of the world and had at least killed things before. Even their little gentle burglar seemed to have more cunning than him.

Well, perhaps... perhaps that was what had tugged at his hardened heart. Warriors seldom have the time for arts and philosophy and beauty, but Ori's calm and innocent demeanor called for his protectiveness. Dwalin thought it was just protectiveness at first, but when the urges of holding and kissing came he knew better than to go into denial. It was just ironic that his One would be a dwarf so different from himself. He had never wasted a second of his life thinking about such things, but his heart's choice was rather unexpected.

Had he not been so busy with following Thorin's instructions, Dwalin was sure he would have gone crazy with that constant torment. Not only he had to try his best to keep away from him, he had to save Ori all the time as well, since his brothers did a poor job of it. Even Fili and Kili did better at keeping him safe. Which was why he ended up being angry with them. Because all of a sudden Ori started to thank _them_ and appraise _them_ all the time, and barely _looked_ at Dwalin!

The first time it was a drawing of Fili, but Dwalin thought nothing of it. He was sure Kili would get rid of it anyway.

The second time in Rivendell it was a poem about Kili. Again, he thought nothing big of it except that it was rather beautiful, and when a warrior starts appreciating words rather than actions it is really troubling. Either way, he knew Fili would destroy that paper as soon as they got into privacy.

Then it started to happen again and again and again and _again_ and Dwalin started having mad ideas of stealing all the paper stash Ori had just to make him stop bestowing so much attention on Fili and Kili. That was another principle he considered violating, so perhaps he had gone crazy, after all. A small comfort was that Fili and Kili seemed to be completely annoyed with all the attention. They were not used to have someone tagging along behind them - well, Gimli, but Gimli could fend for himself and they didn't have to save him all the time unless they had gotten into trouble. In their annoyance - and possessiveness - the lads could be very mean to other people, and it was somewhat surprising they hadn't taken any drastic measures. Which was very good, otherwise Dwalin might be tempted to break the principle of be loyal to your family.

No one would hurt Ori's feelings if he could help it.

One night, however, he caught sight of Kili taking action over the matter. Dwalin couldn't hear what the young prince was saying to Dori and Nori, but he instinctively agreed with all of it. Kili was not that imaginative when it came to warnings, so it probably ran along the lines of: Keep Ori safe and keep Ori out of the princes' tails before they got really angry. Dwalin knows how cruel his princes can be, so he hopes that Dori and Nori will heed to Kili's words.

On the following day he overhears the three brothers sharing a conversation about that. Dori simply orders him to stop, but Nori is rolling his eyes and explaining him it was better to stop because people might get the wrong idea.

"But they are nice, and they need more friends than just each other." Ori insisted and Dwalin felt an annoying feeling of _adoration_ roaring through his chest. Adorable was a word that barely made it to his vocabulary, but had been coming to his mind frequently when concerning Ori.

His older siblings tried then to explain that Fili and Kili really didn't need more friends, which was – in Dwalin's opinion – a rather polite way of saying that the princes really were too self-centered and greedy of each other to allow for other close relations apart from family. Not that Dwalin can blame them too much, he can only imagine what he would do if he could have Ori.

Their warnings had no effect however, and Ori continued to offer tokens of his admiration for the two brothers. Drawings and poems crafted every day, delivered every night. And now, that the rest of the company has started to notice the strange display, it is even worse to watch.

"Is Ori courting the lads at the same time?" Oin asked one night by the fire as the older portion of the Line of Durin watched bemused as Fili and Kili suffered through another session of poem reading. "You'd think he would know better than that, innocent though he is."

"Perhaps he does." Gloin adds "People do say that the secret to get one to do something is to convince the other."

"Oh, stop that. The laddies just don't like to babysit Ori all the time." Balin said "I was with Nori and Dori the other day when Kili warned them to make Ori stop. Apparently it didn't work."

"Good thing it was Kili, not Fili." Gloin said "He is Thorin's heir in age, name and fury."

Dwalin, obviously, was not enjoying the conversation in the slightest, but he nodded along with his brother and cousins because he really agreed. Kili was quick to anger, but Fili's rage was much more difficult to appease when finally waken. Thorin, who was in a rare good mood, offered them a smirk.

"It is quite surprising he hasn't snapped yet. Had this happened a few years before, we would have seen Ori run away crying already."

The pain this image brings is sudden, although Dwalin had been getting used to these invisible wounds. The next words his king says, though, are surprising enough that he forgets the feeling.

"Fili must be getting better at controlling his jealousy, even though they both do a poor job of controlling all their other needs."

"Ah, so you know, then?" Balin asks, looking at Thorin from the corner of his eyes. All of them are looking at him now, wanting to know what where his thoughts on the forbidden relationship.

"How couldn't I? I've raised them as much as any of you, although they seem to forget that." Thorin said simply, his eyes focused on his nephews.

"And you don't mind?" Oin asked, voicing all of their thoughts.

Thorin shrugged after a few moments of silence. "This quest has been teaching me to be less judging. I used to mind, today not so much." Then the king's eyes travelled to Bilbo for a moment, becoming just a bit softer, before returning to their little group and boring into Dwalin "Principles can be flexible, especially when you know the dangers of life."

Dwalin had not spoken of his heart's discovery to anyone, not even Balin and Thorin, but their eyes told him they already knew anyway. So as Gloin and Oin started to talk about the fatality of dwarvish hearts and the dubious concept of what was wrong when concerning love, unaware of the exchange of glances, he left their circle of conversation before his own family convinced him it was fine to shamelessly court young Ori.

Things got worse as they progressed slowly towards the forest. Ori was incredibly insistent and the company had started to make bets about the conclusion of the little drama. Wagers ranged from five against one it would be soon that Fili was going to destroy little Ori if he didn't stop, to nine against one that Fili and Kili would end up making their relationship public in the process of trying to make Ori stop the non-courting-that-looked-like-courting. Even Thorin was participating in that bet, and Dwalin found himself trying to think of a way to put an end to it himself.

Should he just start courting Ori, then? Proper courting rituals were far from being his expertise, and he didn't think he could deal with the possible outcome of being denied.

What would Ori see in a brute like him, after all? Dwalin was not famous for his amazing sense of humor or for his remarkable knowledge of history – the Line of Durin apart, of course. Certainly Ori could do better than him, find a proper educated dwarf who would be able to sustain rich conversation. Aside from devotion, loyalty, fierce protection… there wasn't really much he could offer to a potential mate. If they ever succeeded into getting the Mountain back, he was bound to work a lot to help Thorin, and most likely to him would fall the task of dealing with battle-related matters while his cousins dealt with politics and finances and sustainment. It was the silent agreement they had all made when they joined the quest. Who would want to share him with his duty to his king?

Therefore, it was with great shock that Dwalin received his first drawing.

He woke up one morning at the sound of branches breaking close to his head. His warrior instincts kicked in, and he immediately grabbed one of his axes as he stood, only to be met with the sight of a startled Ori. Wide eyes, open mouth and a folded paper clutched in his tiny hands.

"I… I'm sorry… I wanted to give you this before the others woke up." Ori said in an almost whisper, extending both his hands towards Dwalin.

Still in shock, he looked around, noticing that indeed everyone else was asleep. Ori must have had the last shift of watch. Then he took a closer look at the young dwarf. Beneath his wide eyes there were heavy bangs, speaking of a sleepless night. Dwalin counted all the freckles on his face, noticing how beautiful he was under the first light of morning.

Silent, he put his ax down, watching like Ori took one step closer, offering the folded paper.

"It has been brought to my attention… I-I mean…" Ori sighed and a blush covered his cheeks, darkening his freckles and doing wonders for Dwalin's suddenly racing heart "I've been told that you would like one."

Grateful that the little one had chosen this early – and private – hour of the day, Dwalin raised a slightly trembling hand to receive Ori's gift. Had he finally earned a piece of art from the scribe, then? His thoughts were confirmed when he opened the paper, finding a drawing of himself wielding his war hammer against a crowd of gobblins on one of those tiny wooden bridges.

Dwalin had never seen the things that Ori had drawn for Fili and Kili, but if they were only half as beautiful as this then the lads were really stupid to think poorly of it just because of their jealousy. It was so very rare to find a dwarf with this kind of artistic abilities and he found himself in awe that he had earned this gift. Ori had even managed to make the killing seem honorable and beautiful, instead of just him fighting to keep them all alive.

Not to mention the detail. Every single one of his tattoos was there on the right places, as well as all the tiny details of his armor and clothing. His beloved weapon had been given special dedication, attracting the eye to the part of the drawing where his hammer connected with a gobblin's head.

And it had taken the whole night. Ori seemed to have spent the night awaken to do it.

He looked up at Ori again, meaning to thank him, but found no words. What could he say? A mere 'thank you' didn't seem enough and his eloquence was during battles, not politeness. Balin had been the one taught how to speak nicely, not him. His father had placed an ax on his hands at the very young age of twenty and Dwalin had learned how to make it talk in his stead, using words only when absolutely necessary or when teasing others in drinking contests.

Ori, apparently not discouraged by his lack of response, whispered again to the morning air.

"I don't want you to be lonely."

This sentence was so unexpected that elicited a response from him at last.

"Ye think I'm lonely?" he asked, his deep voice sounding too loud in his ears. Was that how Ori saw him then? An old, lonely warrior?

The young dwarf opened and closed his mouth several times before something finally managed its way out. "Fili and Kili were talking to me and—"

"So ye gave me this because Fili and Kili told ye to?" this time his voice really was louder, and sharp too, with bitter disappointment running through his veins, although the rational part of his mind told him it was to be expected.

That explained Ori's earlier words, about being told he would like a drawing. In the end this was just two possessive princes trying to get rid of unwanted attention, directing it towards another member of the company. Dwalin didn't think the two air-heads knew about his… affection, but the joke still felt like swallowing ice. Yes, he liked the drawing. _A lot_. If someone had ever managed to make Dwalin look good, it had been Ori with that drawing. It would just feel better if Ori had wanted to make it originally, not being led to by two mischievous dwarves.

What had he expected, though? That a smart, young dwarf like Ori would see him in a different light? The drawing told of the respect for his warrior abilities, and Dwalin supposed it was better than nothing, but right now said abilities felt very useless. Nothing had ever prepared him for this kind of disappointment, not all the grief and loss and images of a broken a king – against all of those his axes had been able to talk for him. Yet now… now he needed words he didn't have, his heart racing in the process of a delayed heartbreak.

And he was starting to sound like a stupid love-struck elf, too! Bloody heart of his, finding him trouble in the middle of claiming back their home as if there wasn't enough trouble on the way.

"No."

The word was spoken with such unusual surety on the insecure voice that Dwalin looked up. He found Ori looking very sure of himself, despite the now deeper blush that covered most of his face. Dwalin counted the freckles all over again, discovered he had missed one during his previous count.

"I drew you because I think you deserved it. There is little else that I can do for you to show my gratitude for keeping me safe." Ori manages to say without stuttering, raising his chin in confidence before the blush commandeers his actions and he ducks his head down, suddenly looking at the ground in his typical display of shyness "I just wasn't sure you would like it... And I wanted you to like it. Really really wanted it. Do you? Li-like it, I mean."

That last part was spoken so low that Dwalin took his time to make sure he had really heard it. Was his opinion really that much important to Ori?

The lad had just successfully robbed him of words again.

But this time Dwalin knew he had to say something back, because there was a tiny hinge of fear on that young lovely voice and he couldn't bear to think he might be the cause of it. Ori's voice, he discovered in that moment, was more effective to bring him down than any kind of weapon.

"I think it's perfect. It honors me to have been the target of yer talent."

It was hardly poetic, if not military, but had effectively made Ori look at him again. The blush was still there, but this time there was a happy glow on his eyes and Dwalin couldn't help but to feel happy as well.

"Honest?" Ori asked, clearly excited.

Dwalin nodded, trying to offer a smile. His mouth was more used to smirks than smiles, but he tried anyway. He looked to the drawing one more time with uncontained affection before carefully folding it and placing it inside his vests.

"I'm afraid I have no gift to give ye in return."

"Oh! Oh, there is no need for that!" Ori smiled brightly at him "I'm just glad you like it."

Dwalin sighed then, because he was getting tired of warring against his heart's desire and because he needed somehow to show his appreciation to Ori. So, despite knowing that the dwarf before him was no maiden, he gently grabbed one of his hands and placed a light kiss upon the fingers where the skin was not hidden by knitted gloves, revering it for its abilities so different from his own.

"Thank ye again." He whispered to the small hand, so much smaller and more delicate than his.

When he saw Ori blush as deep as a tomato Dwalin told his stupid heart to shut up and to not get hopeful. Because Ori was probably just feeling embarrassed because almost no one was this kind to him.

Xx

It was to be expected, then, that his good mood went sour the minute he saw Ori delivering a drawing to Bifur on the following day. And then to Oin. And to a confused Bilbo.

On the fourth day Thorin was the one who received a drawing and Dwalin thought he could spit fire all over it when the king courteously received it, showing much more grace and eloquence than he had on that morning. Thorin Oakenshield already had their burglar; did he have to charm Ori as well?!

This was Dwalin ready to break his first and second principle all at once until he saw the sniggering faces of Fili and Kili, that had also been watching the scene.

So, his two _oh-so-beloved_ princes had told Ori to start distributing drawings for the whole company? Pulling a prank while getting rid of Ori, eh?

Dwalin was _seething_. He had been about to go give the lads a piece of his mind when he briefly looked at where Thorin and Ori had been talking only to find the young dwarf heading his way, a small shy smile on his face and a rosy tone adorning his cheeks.

"Good afternoon, Dwalin." He said.

"Good afternoon, laddie." He grunted back, conscious of the menacing scowl on his face because he would get Fili and Kili for this and because he wanted Ori to _stop_ drawing others.

Dwalin winced a bit when he saw Ori flinch at his rude tone, but in his jealousy he forced himself not to mind. He was a _brute_, Ori better not forget it. "I see ye are drawing everyone in the company. Even our little burglar."

"Uhm… yes." Ori looked down for a moment, seeming very self-conscious "I don't think they liked their drawings, though. Mister Baggins was gentle enough, but they all reacted the same way Fili and Kili used to."

And there was Ori, disarming him again. Immediately the jealousy was replaced with protectiveness, making him feel very tempted to throw a few axes around until every single dwarf, hobbit and wizard was appraising Ori's talent.

"Did you… _really_ like yours?"

The insecurity in Ori's voice was nearly heartbreaking and Dwalin heard his voice answering before he properly registered what he was saying.

"Of course I did. It was… lovely." And another word for his vocabulary. Ori was making an educated dwarf out him, go figure. Dwalin doesn't remember feeling this awkward ever since he was a young lad, proving his worth to the severe king Thror had been.

The relief on the young's face was worth it, and a folded paper appeared on Ori's hands. The familiar blush seeming permanent as a bright smile was sent Dwalin's way.

"That makes me happy, because I made you something else."

It was another drawing, but Ori did not wait to hear his opinion, he simply shoved it in his big hands and went off to help his brothers to collect wood for the fire. Dori, Dwalin noticed, had been looking at them with suspicion in his eyes. Well, he didn't care. Because this time Ori really managed to make his heart do the strangest moves so far, opting to picture him not in battle, but standing tall and proud at the gates of Erebor.

Dwalin was aware that Ori, much like the princes, had been born in the exile, therefore everything he knew about the Lonely Mountain was from the tales he had been told. And yet, it was perfect in detail, with all the proper statues and khudzul runs showing the proud sigil of the Line of Durin. In front of the gates was pictured Dwalin, looking towards east like he had done so many times in his youth, sensing the wind to go out hunting alongside his kin.

The image brought memories so vivid to his mind of a time when he and even Thorin had been happy and not so grumpy, not to mention without the lines of grey in his hair. The heat of the forges, the taste of the meat, the smells that came from Dale, the constant sound of hammer against stone… somehow, all of that was conveyed into that drawing made by a young dwarf who had never known the meaning of _home_.

He was left frozen in the middle of the camp, lost in memory and wonder. How could Ori know about all of that?

"Ah, I see young Ori took to heart your tales of Erebor." Oin said as he passed to him.

Too engrossed in his memories to be surprised at the sudden apparition, he turned to see his two cousins nearby, peering over the drawing.

"What do ye mean?"

"Haven't you noticed? Whenever you speak of our home Ori looks like he is drinking your words." Gloin shrugged and left to make a fire out of the wood that the lad and his siblings had collected.

Oin stayed and eyed him, though. Dwalin looked back at him, as if daring him to understand why the drawing had left him so shook. His cousin only smiled knowingly at him and winked, though.

"Age, is hardly a problem, if you ask me, when we are so close to death. Besides, after he reaches his century, the differences will disappear."

He and Oin were not as close as Dwalin was to Thorin and Balin, but they had gone through a lot together, and were very good friends despite the different paths they had taken. He sometimes forgot that Oin knew him well enough to decipher his moods. So, despite being slightly vexed that he was becoming more and more obvious about his affection, Dwalin nodded to show he would think about those words.

It was kind of true, wasn't it? Adults were adults, no matter how many years they had on their backs. And Ori had come of age already, otherwise he wouldn't be allowed to come.

Xx

That night Dwalin did not sit on his usual spot by Thorin's side, he went straight to where Ori was helplessly struggling to adjust his slingshot, damaged in the process of shooting fiery pines at wargs.

As noted, words were not his strong suit, so he simply sat by Ori's side – pointedly ignoring Dori's widened eyes – and grabbed the slingshot from his hands. It was not ruined. It was just a matter of replacing the leather and tightening it around the wood. Ripping a piece of his leather purse, Dwalin proceeded to mend the small weapon with the care that he displayed to his own axes and hammer. Somewhere on the corner of his eyes, he noticed Fili and Kili looking at him somewhat smugly, but he focused on his task instead on their expressions.

When the work was done, quite expertly if he dared to boast, he placed it back on Ori's hands and finally ventured looking up. Tending to another's weapon was classic courting behavior, and while he wished it could have been more private, Dwalin knew he could not afford to be picky in the middle of that company. Besides, he knows he is lucky that he doesn't have necessarily to do this hidden from others like Fili and Kili had.

Ori is blushing, of course, and Dwalin felt like his heart had become a war hammer against his chest.

"Say something, lad." He urged, because it was getting hard to look at Ori's surprised face without trying to kiss the blush away.

To give the young dwarf credit, he really tried to say something, but after a few attempts, he ended up closing his mouth and taking a deep breath. Dwalin held his own, counting his erratic heartbeat. Give him one hundred orcs to fight and he would laugh at it, so he had never really thought that courting could be so terrifying – not that he would ever voice that aloud, of course.

However, when Ori slowly scooted closer and gingerly grabbed one of his hands to polish his knuckle duster, it felt better than any battle he had ever won. His foolish heart soared and his blood boiled with victory and adoration and desire. Dwalin's instincts told him to kiss the other, but he held his urges because Ori deserved to be treated with respect.

As his knuckle dusters were clumsily polished with Ori's knitted gloves, their skins sometimes brushed, and it was with great pleasure that he saw the younger shivering every time the contact happened, blushing deeper if that was possible.

Dori and Nori were glaring at him, but Dwalin paid no mind to it, wrapped in Ori's coy smile at him after the task was over. Feeling rather bold, he pulled Ori to sit a little closer to the fire and farther from his siblings, and so they spent the night peacefully side by side, arms touching. At some point during the night, Ori's head fell upon his shoulder in sleep, so Dwalin carefully made him more comfortable in his arms.

After that, there was nothing that brought them apart unless Thorin had an order for him that forced him to leave Ori's side. Although Dwalin was sure that his king was trying to not give him many of those.

As Ori had no big weapons, Dwalin had taken to carry his books for him. They were the biggest things that Ori carried, not to mention his most prized possessions. It was amazing how the young dwarf had managed to hold on to them during the whole gobbling and orcs ordeal, so they were instantly added to Dwalin's list of things that should be well kept. For his turn, Ori started carrying his war hammer that had been borrowed before. Also, they walked side by side every day, and when the company would stop to rest, Ori would easily lean against him.

The one bothersome thing was that Ori did not stop with his drawings, which made Dwalin terribly jealous. Every single member of the company received both a drawing and a poem on the following days, except for Fili and Kili, since they had gotten so many before. Fine, all of them were nice and amazing and brave and so forth… but did Ori have to pay them so much attention? Wasn't Dwalin enough?

"Why do ye keep doing this?" he asked grumpily one night when Ori returned to his side after declaiming a poem to Bifur.

"Doing what?" Ori asked, settling himself comfortably by Dwalin's side, who was sitting against a tree.

"The poems and the drawings, for _them_."

"I always give you drawings too." Ori looked at him with confusion in his eyes.

"Not poems."

Dwalin felt incredibly stupid saying this, but it was the truth. Ori had not given him a single poem while everyone else had been graced with one. He tried his best to look nonchalant and dignified, but it was becoming harder and harder to hide his thoughts from Ori.

"Oh." Was Ori's articulate response "I'm sorry."

The sorrowful tone on his voice made Dwalin immediately cringe with regret. It was also becoming harder to hide his possessiveness, but that was no excuse to hurt Ori's feelings.

"Shh, don't be. Ye can do whatever ye want." He said, gently touching Ori's chin to lift his face.

"I… I tried writing you a poem. But I couldn't." Ori said, looking really sad about this.

"Why?" he asked, curious despite the need to chase that sadness away "Ye are very good with yer words."

Ori sighed and looked to the side. "I can't find words for you. You are older and experienced and brave and kind and so good to me… you are bigger than words. I can't find the ones that are worthy of telling you how I feel."

And there went Dwalin's stupid heart soaring again.

If even talented Ori was having problems with words to convey his feelings, Dwalin did not even try. He had always been better with actions, anyway. So with as much delicacy as he could muster, he held Ori's face in his hand. He counted all the freckles again before leaning down upon those lips.

The kiss was sweet and chaste and careful. Every single nerve in Dwalin's body screamed at him to press down and take everything he could, because Ori offered no resistance and was clinging to him in response, trying to learn how to kiss and clearly eager to please him. Yet, Dwalin merely held him closer, pulled him to sit on his lap and let their lips slide softly against each other.

He would properly claim Ori as his sooner or later, but he would do that with a roof upon their heads and no prying eyes, when he would be able to really show how deep his feelings went for the little one.

Ori was still breathless afterwards, nonetheless, and Dwalin couldn't help but to feel very smug. His chest swelled with the knowledge that he had been the first to touch that mouth.

"I… I have even less words now." Ori whispered, leaning in again for another kiss.

Dwalin returned. Far be it from him to ever deny Ori something.

"It's fine." He answered after the second kiss, pressing his lips against Ori's forehead. A new wave of possessiveness coursed through him, but he rationalized it as best as he could "Ye keep yer words for the rest of the company if ye want. It's a waste not to use yer talent. Just never forget that ye are mine."

Ori responded with a quick nod, gripping his clothes and hiding his face in Dwalin's neck. "You are mine too." He muttered.

"Forever." Dwalin agreed. Then he kissed Ori some more, because he had waited too long and because it might take some time until he can do the other things.

The company continued receiving drawings and poems for a few days more, but Dwalin had found tranquility in his new found power to leave Ori breathless and wordless after their kisses, which kept his possessiveness in check.

Dori and Nori were _still_ glaring permanently at him, but Dwalin did not care. If he remembered correctly, Kili _had_ warned them to take better care of their brother. Now that was his task alone, and no one in the company dared to challenge his right to it.

**xxxxxxxxx**

**I don't know how many times I re-wrote this ending, so I don't know whether I did this right or not. Dwalin/Ori is far from being my expertise.**

**I hope you've liked it!**


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